


Another Type of Love

by ForeverandForAlways



Category: Adam Levine/Blake Shelton - Fandom
Genre: Adam Levine - Freeform, Behati Prinsloo - Freeform, Blake Shelton - Freeform, Bromance, Shakira - Freeform, The Voice, usher - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:08:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverandForAlways/pseuds/ForeverandForAlways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The name he scrolled to was under the B's, but it wasn't Behati's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Type of Love

He’s kind of actually been waiting for exactly this. It’s been a sort of slow night and Adam knows very well he’s not helping himself by being so damn picky but _sorry_ after six seasons he doesn’t exactly push for anyone. Well. Almost anyone he amends as his chair flips around and he notes that Blake has also not pushed his button (he knew he wouldn’t he knows his favorite hick). He’s pretty fucking happy tonight though so he throws in quip about Shakira and Usher’s loveliness (and he should get bonus points for that).

“It’s all about you and me now,” Shakira trills, reaching her hand across the space between her and Usher’s chair.

“That’s right. She hit her button first. I’m a gentleman, ladies first,” he replies smoothly and Adam bites down on his tongue to keep from teasing the two.

“You know I think highly of you, you’re an amazing person,” she gushes (ha Shaki’s _gush_ ing at _Ush_ er, damn he’s funny). He gawks a little bit (oh so it’s fine for _them_ to smooze over there) before piping up.

“It’s a love fest man,” he whines, carefully avoiding making eye contact just yet (which is actually very hard, thank you very much, especially when that trademark laugh reaches his ears). Shakira glances at him for a moment and he swears he sees a smirk slide across her face but it’s gone so quickly (and he can’t read her like he can Blake) that he can’t be sure.

“He’s so jealous, he wants our attention,” she quips, turning back towards Usher. He grins slyly to himself and he’s really kind of impressed with himself (and her) that he’s obnoxious enough to try it (and cute little Shaki is sneaky enough to give him the chance) but he slips out of his chair and dramatically pouts his way over to Blake’s (and the smirk that slips up onto _his_ face is still undetected by the rest of the world but Adam has seen it enough times in the dim light of his bedroom to know what it looks like). He slides smoothly onto his lap with an ease that only comes from practice and Blake’s hands automatically slip around his torso, hands open around his stomach. He’s so used to his movements that even the slight hesitation right before his ands brush together seems very obvious just before they settle possessively on his hips (under the view of the goddamn cameras) before sliding up to his shoulders. His finger knead the sore muscles swiftly and discreetly, squeezing just slightly, just the way Adam likes.

“I love you, man,” he mumbles out, half for the camera and half because it’s been so goddamn long since he said it simply to say it.

“I love you too,” comes back in that drawl he’s gotten so used to. Adam’s muscles automatically relax and he settles down into a mutually comfortable position without having to give it much thought. He hangs his head like a dejected puppy and sneaks a glance two chairs down where Shakira is smiling in a satisfied way at herself and he will really have to ask her about that later. “That’s another type of love,” she teases, waving her hand dismissively.

“They don’t love us,” he mourns playfully, leaning into the hand that’s resting at the small of his back. When he shifts his weight absentmindedly, said hand tightens slightly around the fabric of his shirt and he smirks. Shakira goes on to explain why it is that she turned but Adam suddenly isn’t too focused on Morgan. He shifts again, purposefully this time and the hand that’s resting on his hip squeezes in warning and a muted growl vibrates through him.

“Aw, here the claws are comin’ out,” Blake announces, shifting his attention back to Usher and his playful jab.

“Claws are comin’ out, claws are comin’ out, the claws are comin’ out,” he chant childishly, clapping along like a five year old (hey he never said he was the responsible one of the relationship) and a chuckle slips out of his new seat. Usher continues in his explanation and there’s an awkward pause between contestant and coach that causes Adam to put his head down and flat out laugh. When he raises his eyes, a cameraman is motioning frantically at him to return to his chair and he knows that Blake sees him too by the momentary tightening grip on his waist that’s just as quickly released. He sighs softly and begins to slide out when out of the corner of his eyes he sees Shakira signing something with her hand (that he knows isn’t meant for him). It’s discrete and very quick but Usher slows down his words and stretches out his sentence in a way Adam doesn’t think he’s heard before. The camera pans away from Adam crawling off of Blake’s lap back to Usher’s face and Adam takes the opportunity to casually brush his lips quickly across Blake’s jaw. It’s only when the crowd is applauding for Usher’s team gain and he catches a wink between the two returning coaches on his way back to his chair that he starts to wonder how exactly all these pieces fit together.

* * *

 

The hand that reaches out and snags him from the shadows on his way to Shakira’s trailer after the show is not exactly unexpected.

“I oughta kick your ass for wigglin’ like that Levine you know damn well what that does to me,” Blake huffs, crossing his arms in mock anger.

“Shut up Shelton you love me. You said so yourself on national television,” Adam snickers and Blake rolls his eyes.

“What’re ya doin’ out by Shak’s trailer anyway?”

“Jealous?” Adam teases and before Blake can say what Adam knows he’s going to, he rises up to his tip toes and presses a kiss hard to the country superstar’s mouth.

“Don’t say it,” he pants in warning when he pulls back for air. Blake groans. “Not now.”

“Fine, fine but hurry your ass up, I wanna go home,” he complains. Adam cocks a brow.

“No one said you had to wait for me.” An odd look crosses Blake’s face and he repeats his previous sentence before turning around and heading for his own trailer. Confused but not too concerned, Adam turns back towards Shakira’s trailer and knocks. The short little Latina opens it quickly, squinting at him for a minute before dragging him in and closing the door.

“Hi,” she says, sitting down on her chaise and shoveling girly shit into her purse.

“Hey.”

“Can I help you? You rarely come to see me, something is wrong?” she asks in her cute little accent, voice dripping with concern.

“Nah not really. I was just wonderin’ what you and Usher are up to,” he says casually. She freezes and looks at him.

“You know the hand signals, the smirks. I’m curious,” he states, leaning back against the wall. She hops up and reaches for the door.

“What can I say? I ship Shevine,” she winks and ducks out, closing the door behind her. Adam stands like an idiot in the middle of her trailer, mouth open for a solid five seconds when she pops her head back in. “She would have left her ring on the counter, not the bedside table, by the way. Behati, I mean,” she adds softly, no mocking in her face. She smiles a little sadly at him and leaves again.

* * *

 

When he gets home (without Blake, shit the cowboy’s gonna kill him), there’s a silver diamond ring and a piece of paper in the center of the island in his kitchen. In his fiancée’s (ex-fiancée’s?) handwriting is an apology and a promise that she doesn’t blame him, she understands, she can see now that it was never Shakira or Christina she should have worried about. He stares at the ring in his hand for a moment before reaching for his phone. The name he scrolls to is under the B’s, but it’s not Behati’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This was inspired by Tuesday's episode of The Voice Blind Auditions. Let me know what you think!


End file.
